The End Of The World
by WritingTrash
Summary: It was the end. The bombs had come down. And they were the only ones left. Fem!America RusAme Rated T just in case.
1. Part 1

**I said I was going to rewrite this, man it's bad... I still like the idea though. This will be 2 parts because I like cliffhangers you're all welcome.**

 **I'm posting this on HetaliaXNyotalia one-shots and making a specific story just for this, because this is HetaliaXNyotalia but it was a separate thing first.**

 **For HetaliaXNyotalia Readers:**

 **Im going to the same pairings over again, so this won't be the only RusXFem!Ame, maybe the others will be a little more positive..**

 **Anyway here's part 1:**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, as you may have guessed...**

 **~America POV~**

Honestly America didn't know how long she had been lying there. Ash falling on her face like snow, smoke and death littering the air.

If she shut her eyes, she could see flashes of her land. People crying for loved ones, or searching for them. Rushing to places, not that there was anything to really go to.

If she really focused, she could remember what it was like before the bombs dropped, killing millions in minutes. Honestly she had brought this on herself. The minute she decided to bomb Japan all those years ago, she had sealed her fate.

So why wasn't she dead? Why did her people still live on and love her, when she had killed them?

Well she was turning into a psychological idiot. The end of the world did odd things to people.

Then that question lingered in the back of her mind, was Russia alive?

Were his people as strongly spirited at hers? They had been planning together when the bombs went down. He was here, but the question was he here alive or dead?

Their relationship had been an odd one, no one had predicted it. Even her. If some one had told her 50 years ago she would be married and an ally to Russia, and she would be happy with him, she would probably have punched them.

And of course it scared other nations. The two strongest countries, together, allies, on a different level than the rest of the world, it would have scared America, too.

But here she was, in ruins, and he was her first thought. America didn't want to know the answer. What if he was dead? It would kill her, too. If she just stayed here, would it all go away?

Could this just be some dream? She would wake up, next to him, and the world wouldn't be a nuclear wasteland.

America couldn't just stay there though. It wasn't her, to just sit there. Oh, this was ironic, it wasn't the American spirit, the same thing that had brought her here in the first place.

So she pushed herself up, ignoring the pain flashing through her body. Her blue eyes searched the remains of the city, most of it brought to her eye level by the bombs.

And there it was.

That scarf he never took off, because it hid the scars she had caused during the Cold War. It flew in the wind, stuck around a cement pole that had formerly been part of a building. It looked like some sick flag, waving in the wind proudly.

Hot tears ran down her face as she climbed over the rubble, toward the blood stained scarf. America reached for it, her fingers brushing the edge, just enough to take it off the pole.

The American dropped to the ground, rocks and glass cutting through her military uniform. She held the scarf closely, looking up to the grey sky. It wouldn't be blue again for years, maybe centuries. America sniffed, burying her face in the scarf.

She didn't notice the crunch of glass under snow boots.

"Америка?"

 **Well there you go, part 1... Part 2 will be up later, about a week.**


	2. Part 2

**Part 2 is up! Here you go! The last 4 paragraphs are based off a Pinterest prompt, I changed a few words though. You'll see me using a lot of those a lot... Oh wow people** **said they liked my writing, thanks!** **That really means a** **lot.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!  
**

 **~Russia POV~**

Russia had been under a broken table when he woke up, his scarf was missing, and so was America.

She couldn't be dead, right? Her people were so positive, like her, if he was alive, she had to be.

Russia didn't know what he would do if she wasn't alive. His life had always been so gloomy, lonely, cold. Everyone was scared of him, all he wanted was a friend, one that wasn't trembling in his presence. Then he noticed her. She wouldn't show any fear of him, if she had any.

His sunflower. America.

She could brighten a funeral with her smile. But if anyone tried anything with her, she'd throw them into a wall with her brute strength. It made him smile, how quickly her mood could change.

America completely changed his life, always making him happier. If she was gone, he'd be that cold, dark nation everyone feared, including himself."

So Russia had to find her. She must have been thrown away from the building. Wait, was that his scarf?

The tall Russian saw the old stained cloth wrapped around a cement pole, that was once part of a building. Then it was pulled away, by someone he couldn't see.

Russia started to the spot his scarf had been. There she was.

America.

She was on the ground, holding the scarf to her chest, and her face buried in it. Her golden blond hair was being thrown around in the wind, and ash made it look darker than it was.

"Америка?" He asked slowly, standing away from the smaller nation.

She looked up, her blue eyes widened. Her eyes always reminded Russia of the sky in her country, not now though. The sky was grey and dark, and her eyes were red with tears.

"Russia!" She ran to him. Her arms hugged his bare neck and she sobbed into his dirty uniform. "I thought you were dead!" America said, still crying, though.

Russia felt like crying too, she was alive. She was okay. He hugged her tightly, resting his head on her hair.

The world had ended right in front of them. It had fallen apart. Buildings had disintegrated and crumbled, taking millions with it.

It was their fault.

They had caused the end.

But they were together for the end of the world.


End file.
